Zone
by mew-tsubaki
Summary: Drabble, slash. Hanamaki and a love of long legs. [HanamakiYahaba]


**Zone**

A Haikyuu! drabble

by mew-tsubaki

Note: The _Haikyuu!_ characters belong to Furudate Haruichi-sensei, not to me. I love OTP head-canons… -w- Read, review, and enjoy!

\- ^-^3

The members of Seijou's volleyball club have some unique traits that make them pretty recognizable. Iwaizumi's got his ripped arms, Oikawa's hands are large and sturdy from his many serves, Matsukawa's neck is thickly muscled, Kunimi's face is calculatingly impassive, Kindaichi's got his height, Watari's thighs are trained for speed, and even Kyoutani's glare belies his strength.

And then there is Yahaba.

Hanamaki's eyes flit over the second year covertly during practice and overtly when they're sitting alone in the living room at Yahaba's place. Yahaba's parents are out, so the house is quiet save for the music coming from the television program which Hanamaki's ignoring and Yahaba is failing to watch.

Eventually Yahaba sighs and mutters, "Do you _have_ to do that all the time?"

"I don't do it all the time," Hanamaki retorts automatically, which kind of undermines his argument since he says it so often because he really does it so often. But he can't help it. Yahaba's got long legs that he likes to stretch out. Hanamaki's got the welcoming lap on which to place them. As far as the third year is concerned, it's a win–win.

Yahaba shakes his head, the back of his neck reddening familiarly. "Uh-huh," he mumbles, because he's a polite guy who doesn't know how to be sassy around his seniors, even the one he's dating. Plus Hanamaki's hand or hands on his legs always seem to make his vocabulary evaporate, as smart as Yahaba is.

Hanamaki tries to be conscious of his actions. If he does it too much, it gets on Yahaba's nerves. But he can't help it—his hands always find their way to rest on Yahaba's shins, and the feeling now is akin to home.

Yahaba's legs really are nice. Overall the second year isn't extremely tall—even Hanamaki's got an inch or two on him—but Yahaba, proportion-wise, is mostly leg. His legs are long and thin, muscled in only the most necessary of places.

As Hanamaki's mind wanders, he's glad Yahaba already changed out of his uniform and into a t-shirt and slouchy pants. Through the pants, Hanamaki can thumb the calf muscles better, almost as if his fingertips are touching bare skin.

"For crying out loud, _will you stop that_?!" the setter yelps, breaking the white noise-filled quiet.

Hanamaki blinks. Whoops. No wonder he felt skin touching skin—he'd pushed the pant leg up without thinking and really was massaging the calf muscle. "My bad," the spiker states, but he doesn't take his hand away.

"Hanamaki-san…," Yahaba warns.

The senior looks at Yahaba. Poor guy's the color of red bean paste…but Hanamaki doesn't believe he's actually mad. To test his theory, he stops massaging the calf and slides his hand up over Yahaba's knee and across his thigh.

Yahaba tries to hide it, but he swallows some kind of whimper or yelp. Well. This is good to know.

Hanamaki grins wolfishly and taps on the inner side of Yahaba's left thigh, very cruelly inching his way slowly up the leg. Hanamaki takes his time, sure, but he blames Yahaba for that. It _is_ the second year's doing, having such nice legs like these. Hanamaki had asked about it early on when they'd started dating at the end of last year, and Yahaba had replied that his family had a love of music and dance, and so Yahaba had grown up dancing. No contemporary dance, just some ballroom and traditional folk stuff, but dance nevertheless. And Hanamaki could see that—long dancer's legs, borrowed from time to time by a setter.

Yahaba grumbles something incoherently and stops Hanamaki's hand…probably just in time, too. The younger male's slouchy pants are tenting rather obviously. Who knew Hanamaki touching his legs this often would turn them into such an erogenous zone? "I'm getting up," Yahaba announces, slipping Hanamaki's hand from his leg and just about bolting from the couch.

Hanamaki frowns. "But it's just us here."

"I know," Yahaba replies as calmly as he can manage. He heads upstairs to where the bathroom—and his room—is located, calling down, "But I like these pants and don't want them or the couch ruined!"

The third year would laugh if he weren't so turned on right now. But he gets up, too, and follows Yahaba upstairs. Hanamaki can't be away from those legs for long—

—and if there's one thing he likes best about them, it's when they're wrapped around his waist as Yahaba calls out his name.

\- ^-^3

**B3 So I bet Yahaba was more innocent before he fell for Hanamaki… XD This was inspired by a seijouline tumblr post about the third years' likes in a partner, and Hanamaki said long legs. So now I have a head-canon! The comment about dancer!Yahaba is inspired by me helping to run a dance festival in RL every year and the fact that Furudate-sensei lists Yahaba as doing music for Ennoshita's movies in the extras. Yeah. :]**

**Thanks for reading and please review! Check out my other stories, too, if you enjoyed this!**

**-mew-tsubaki ;D**


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